


Cold Shoulder

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Episode: s12e15, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest Kink, M/M, Makeup Sex, Past Underage Sex, Pet Names, Rough Sex, Season/Series 12, Smut, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 17:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10443684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (Set post 12x15, spoilers up to 12x15) Dean's been giving Sam the cold shoulder for days because of the BMoL decision and Sam's finally sick of it.





	

Dean said he was okay with Sam’s decision. Working with the British Men of Letters wasn’t Dean’s idea of a good time, but he promised to trust Sam and work with him – and them – as long as things went smoothly. Despite this assurance, Sam still walked away from their conversation with a bad feeling.

Mick had called to make sure the Hellhound case went okay. He had been surprised that it was what qualified as the Alpha Hellhound, and promised to update their information. He also had a lead on a pack of skinwalkers in Oklahoma. Sam assured him they’d get right on it as soon as they rested for the night, a satisfactory answer for Mick.

When Sam had tried to talk to Dean about the case, he’d simply grunted that non-committal grunt and walked away, muttering something about a shower.

 

Sam crawled into bed that night, expecting Dean to join him. They’d been dating for years now, on and off and somewhat casual – sure, they could see other people, but at the end of the day it was always just the brothers.

But Dean never entered his room. By four in the morning, Sam rose to search for his brother. He found him fast asleep in his own bed down the hall. It made Sam’s heart ache.

 

The next morning was just as awkward. A silent breakfast, even when Sam tried to discuss some events in the local newspaper, including a new bar opening the following month. Dean had just shrugged. Sam gave up talking to him shortly after that.

 

If Sam thought things couldn’t get worse – he’d never been more wrong. The entire six-hour drive to Oklahoma was in silence. Dean didn’t even turn on music to relieve the tension. Even fights they had as teenagers or over Ruby hadn’t been this awkward. Sam wanted Dean to scream at him, take a swing at him, _anything_ but give him the silent treatment.

 

The ‘pack of skinwalkers’ that Mick had given them the lead on turned out to be a hell of a lot more. Six skinwalkers plus two werewolves, all banded together in a sort of half-assed army. The brothers managed to take them out over the course of twenty-four hours, and even that didn’t alleviate Dean’s terse attitude.

 

Now they were sitting in a crappy motel room in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma. Two beds, a barely functional television, and not even a decent wi-fi signal to keep Sam distracted from the heavy silence. Dean had picked up two six packs on the way to the motel, and was already seven bottles deep. The only noise in the room was the clicking of the air conditioner and the thunk of the bottle on the nightstand when Dean bothered to set it down.

 

Sam had had enough. He slapped the book shut he was reading at the table and turned to face Dean, staring at him across the room.

“Are you pissed at me?”

“What gave you that idea?” Dean asked. The sarcasm in his voice was evident, and only served to bristle Sam even further.

“What the hell did I do? I came clean about the Brits and _you_ agreed to work with them. Now you’ve been treating me like a leper for two days. What gives?”

“Nothing, Sam. Drop it.”

Sam rose, rounding the bed and closing the gap between them. He jerked the bottle out of Dean’s grip and slammed it on the stand. The beer inside foamed up, spilling over his hand.

“What the hell?” Dean snapped, looking at Sam for the first time since they’d entered the room.

“You’re being a fucking _jackass_ ,” Sam snapped.

“You lied to me for two weeks!”

“Mom lied to you for two months!” Sam shouted back. Dean reeled backwards, his eyes narrowing.

“This has _nothing_ to do with Mom.”

“This has _everything_ to do with her, Dean! She lied to us for months. You were pissed at her for three days and then everything was fine. You rushed _right_ to her rescue and apologized for something you had a right to be mad over. But I make a choice, as an adult, and tell you after a few weeks, and you treat me like shit. We’ve been together our whole lives, man. In every way possible. And _this?_ This is what’s going to break us up?”

Dean’s face softened at Sam’s words. “I—“

“No.” Sam backed up, turning away from Dean before his brother caught the tears shining in his eyes. “I don’t wanna hear excuses. I’m—I’m going to get a beer.” He circled back around the empty bed and grabbed his coat.

“Sam, wait,” Dean asked, but Sam ignored him, yanking his jacket on and fixing the collar with more force than was necessary. If Dean could give him the silent treatment for forty-eight hours, he could do the same. He headed toward the door, reaching for the doorknob before Dean was behind him, turning and shoving him in the same motion.

Sam grimaced when the knob dug into his lower back. He pushed the emotion off his face as quickly as he could, still biting back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Go ahead, Dean. Take a swing. I’d rather you do that then give me the cold shoulder.” Sam spoke through gritted teeth, bracing for the impact of Dean’s fist in his face or stomach.

“I’m not gonna hit you, Sammy,” Dean whispered. He reached up to brush back a lock of Sam’s hair, stopping when Sam flinched. His hand dropped to his side, his face drooping.

“You really think I’d hit you over this?”

“You’ve hit me over less,” Sam whispered, looking at the floor. “To be honest I’d rather you just do it and get it over with.”

“You’ve gotten a few licks in yourself over the years, Sam.”

“I have. It’s how we solve arguments and it always worked. At least it’s how we used to.” Sam looked up at Dean, not bothering to hide the pain in his expression now. “A broken nose or black eye hurts a hell of a lot less than the silent treatment you’ve been giving me.”

“Sammy—“

“I get it, Dean. I lied to you, again. I’ve done it my whole life. I lied when I got accepted to Stanford, I lied when I said I was over Jess, I lied about Ruby, the demon blood, my powers, being soulless, getting infected with the Darkness, letting Chuck give me the Mark... And God knows what else over the course of thirty years. And now this.”

“I forgave you for all that stuff, Sam.”

“Did you?”

“ _Yes_. Just like you forgave me for all the shit I’ve lied to you about. Haven’t you?”

“Of course I have, Dean.”

Dean reached out again, and this time Sam didn’t flinch. He let himself be pulled into Dean’s arms, let Dean wrap him in a rib crushing hug, and he let the tears fall.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this, Sam. I was hurt. I felt like you’d—Chosen them over me. I—Mom already did.”

Sam pulled back just enough to look at Dean. “Never. Dean, I’m working with them because they can help. They give us cases faster than we can find them on our own, they keep us busy and I know you need that sometimes. But I won’t _ever_ choose them over you. I won’t even choose Mom over you. You gotta believe that.”

“Sam, I just—“

“You _have_ to believe that,” Sam begged, fisting Dean’s shirt.

Dean grabbed his wrists, squeezing them. He looked into Sam’s eyes and nodded slowly.

“I believe you, baby boy.”

Sam’s body slumped at Dean’s words. Dean wrapped his arms around him again, stroking his fingers through his hair.

“I’m still hurt,” Dean began softly, gripping tighter when he felt Sam try to move away, “but I believe what you’re saying to me, and I understand why you did it. I’m glad you told me, even if it stings, okay?”

Sam nodded against his shoulder. After a moment, Dean continued,

“I don’t like them, and I don’t think they’re as good as they claim to be. But I _do_ trust you, and you gotta trust me. Against everyone else, okay? You and me, like always.”

Sam smiled against Dean’s shoulder and lifted his head.

“Do you remember the first time you said that to me?” He whispered.

Dean mirrored his brother’s smile and reached up, wiping the tear tracks off his cheek.

“Course I do. First time Dad left you in my care for over a week and you got beat up by those bullies. You were what, nine?”

Sam nodded.

“I cleaned up your cuts and kissed your forehead and promised you it’d me and you forever.”

“And the second time?”

“When I took your virginity. You were fourteen and you started bawling like a little baby when you came,” Dean laughed as he spoke.

“I knew I wasn’t as good as your other partners. I came too fast.”

“But I didn’t care. Because you were my baby boy. You were perfect. You still are, Sammy.”

“Perfect? Or your baby boy?” Sam whispered, his eyes drifting to Dean’s lips, still curled into that endearing – and frustrating – pouty smile.

“Both,” Dean whispered. He closed the gap between their mouths without hesitation. Their lips slid together, two halves of a whole, tongues dancing a familiar rhythm between mouths they’d had memorized for decades.

They walked together to the bed, mouths still locked together until Sam stretched out on the bed, wiggling out of his clothes silently.

Dean stripped down, still standing then crawled over Sam, his quickly hardening cock nudging his brother’s and drawing a moan from both of them.

“Where’s the lube?” Dean panted, looking down at his brother.

“Really? You don’t have it on hand?”

Dean scowled. “I was mad. I didn’t really expect to get any tonight…”

Sam rolled his eyes deeply, a smile playing at his mouth though he tried to hide it. “Move, jerk. I’ll grab it from my bag.”

Dean laughed, rolling off Sam so he could stand. “Always prepared, Sammy.”

“It wasn’t for you,” Sam said, digging in his duffel bag, “I needed something up my ass and figured if you were giving me the silent treatment I’d just play with myself.”

Sam turned back to face Dean, holding up one of his thick anal plugs and the bottle of lube.

Dean’s throat clicked when he swallowed, his pupils widening visibly. “Y—You were gonna use that tonight?”

“I was gonna use it tonight and wear it on the way back to the bunker.” Sam walked back to Dean as he spoke, setting the plug on the stand.

“And then I was going to make sure you watched while I undressed, so you could see how nice it looked up my ass. And then _maybe_ , just maybe, I was going to start fucking it in front of you.”

Dean sat up and grabbed Sam’s forearms, dragging him to the bed. He straddled him before kissing him hard, biting his bottom lip.

“You’re such a brat.”

“I missed my brother,” Sam whispered, meeting Dean’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“No more silent treatment. _Talk_ to me.”

“I promise,” Dean repeated. Sam smiled, satisfied with his answer, and leaned up to kiss him gently.

“Come on, get inside me before I change my mind and use the plug after all,” he joked, smirking against Dean’s lips.

Dean pulled back, spreading Sam’s thighs and pouring the lube over his fingers. He pressed two into Sam, earning a grimace.

“Who said you were gonna use it anyway? You’re wearing that all night after I’m done with you, Sam. And tomorrow. All the way up until I decide to fuck you stupid in the shower.”

Sam screwed his eyes shut, bucking his hips. His cock jumped on his stomach, precome dribbling onto his heaving abs. 

“Please—“

“Please what?” Dean asked, pushing a second finger in and spreading them. Sam groaned, grabbing the headboard. 

“Just get inside me, Dean. I missed you too much to tease.”

Dean smiled a little, still working his hole. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You've never hurt me, Dean." Sam reached down, lifting his knees to his chest. He grabbed his own ass, spreading himself open. "Been too long since you made me yours."

"Sammy--"

"Come on, big brother."

Dean groaned, withdrawing his fingers. Sam's hole twitched like it was searching for something to fill it. Not wanting to disappoint, Dean slicked his cock and pressed the blunt tip against Sam's hole. He began to push in, his mouth falling open. 

Sam screwed his eyes shut, bearing down to get Dean in; it really _had_ been too long. 

Dean stroked his cheek, still forcing his way in. "Come on, Sammy. Lemme in.  Give it up."

Sam took deep breaths, his body relaxing first. Dean grinned. He leaned over and kissed Sam gently, pressing himself to the hilt at last. 

"Atta boy, Sammy. Feel so good around my cock, baby boy."

He felt Sam's cock jump against his stomach and chuckled. "You did always get so wet hearing that, huh?"

"What?" Sam panted. Dean leaned over, nuzzling Sam's ear as he began to pull out, onto to drive back in. 

"Being reminded that your big brother's cock is wrecking your hole. That sweet little baby boy Sam sluts it out for his own flesh and blood."

Sam moaned loudly, clenching around Dean's thrusting cock. 

"Thought so. Some things never. Fucking. Change." He punctuated each word with a hard thrust that had Sam writhing, his short nails digging into Dean's back. 

"Pull out," Sam hissed. 

Dean scowled. "Why?" He asked, but did as Sam demanded.  

As soon as he was free, Sam flipped them over, straddling Dean's waist and settling onto his cock, not stopping until every inch was inside him.

Dean grabbed his hips but Sam slapped his hands away, raking his nails down Dean's chest. 

"I might be the little brother, but you gave me the cold shoulder for two days, Dean. Right now? I control this. You're not coming until I say, got it?"

Dean's cock jerked in Sam's ass. He nodded quickly, gripping the headboard. 

Sam began to ride him quickly, his own erection slapping obscenely against their stomachs as he fucked himself open on Dean's cock. He threw his head back, moaning openly.

Dean couldn't move - he didn't dare break the spell. Sam looked fourteen again, about to lose everything during a quickie behind the school. The worry that two decades of hunting had marked on his face was gone, replaced with bliss as he rode Dean, crying his name.

Dean sat up, unable to take it. He wrapped his arms around Sam, kissing him roughly. Sam's thrusts became fast erratic and Dean grinned. He grabbed Sam's hands, twining their fingers. 

"That's it. Come on my cock, baby boy," he whispered. He shifted his hips to the left, just enough to hit Sam's prostate directly, and Sam nearly screamed. His orgasm hit, come pouring out of his jerking cock as he continued to ride his brother. 

Dean held tight to him, kissing his throat and shoulders.

"Can I finish, Sammy?" He panted when he felt no more come dribbling onto his stomach. Sam nodded, still trying to ride Dean despite his weakened, shaking legs. 

Dean grabbed his hips and stilled him, thrusting upward into Sam’s fluttering hole. It only took three deep pushes before he came, dragging Sam’s body tight to his own. He whispered Sam’s name over and over against his neck, their bodies touching everywhere they could be.

  
When their orgasms had faded, Dean flopped back onto the bed, reaching over and grabbing the plug. His hands shook a little as he slicked it up and patted Sam’s ass.

Sam grimaced as he pulled off Dean and allowed him to press the plug into him.

“Shower?” Dean whispered when Sam slumped over him.

“If I can move,” Sam mumbled.

“Yeah, you’re not fourteen anymore.” Dean ran his fingers through Sam’s sweat damp hair, kissing his temple. “I’m sorry we fought.”

“Don’t be – it happens.”

“I didn’t handle it right. I almost lost you tonight, Sam, because I was too stubborn to talk to you.”

Sam raised himself up, forcing his tired eyes to focus on Dean’s face. “I don’t care how much we fight. I don’t care how many times we’ve beaten the crap out of each other or said things we regret. You’ll never lose me, Dean. It’s you and me against everything. Always.”

Dean smiled softly, reaching up. He ran his callused thumb over Sam’s scruffy cheek.

“Always,” He agreed, “My baby boy.”


End file.
